


i'll use you as a focal point

by thatsouthernanthem



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Sex, but then it got a mind of its own, cliff climbing, kassandra's strength, this was supposed to just be flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 05:33:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17522822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsouthernanthem/pseuds/thatsouthernanthem
Summary: He's suddenly hyper aware of everything -- the weight of his armor against his chest, the buzzing of bugs in the quiet summer air, the feel of Kassandra's fingers on his own as she looks at his ragged fingertips, the burn of them from trying to keep up with her on that damn cliff. The oppressive humidity that surrounds the Eurotas and the crash of water by their side.Then again, he thinks, as he watches her, the heat closing in on him may have nothing to do with the weather.





	i'll use you as a focal point

**Author's Note:**

> big thanks to nightmarechild for the line about Brasidas' finger strength for making this fic come to life in my mind and a big thanks to both boisoup and I-will-be-your-krantt @ tumblr for talking to me about ACO and my fic writing. 
> 
> title is from "I Found" by Amber Run

Brasidas is not a weak man. How could he be, as one of the most respected soldiers in Sparta? But watching, eyes squinting in the sun, as Kassandra demonstrates her ability to scale a cliff, he feels like he's lacking in so many ways. 

She stops, holding on with one hand as she glances down at him, and he has to strain to hear her over the crash of the Eurotas down the mountain. She's beckoning him to follow her, he knows. He glances down at his hands for a moment and wonders how humiliated he'll be and how quickly it will happen.

Still, he's not one to back down from a challenge and even in the blinding sunlight, he can see how the unspoken _come on, show me what you're made of_ colors her eyes, the curve of her smirk. Kassandra pulls herself up onto an outcropping and dangles her feet over the edge. "Spies should be able to climb anything! What if you need to get somewhere quickly?"

"Then I will ride a fast horse," Brasidas mutters even as he grins up at her. His fingers already seem woefully underprepared for this endeavor and he's barely climbed up at all. He reaches and scrabbles for purchase in the grooves and dips in the rocks, feet slipping on the shale and pebbles. He makes it to her outcropping and glances down, heart sinking at the fact they're definitely not as high as he thought they were. 

"Hm," Kassandra's brow furrows as she reaches over to take his hand in hers and he's just noticed a couple of his fingertips are bleeding. She draws her index finger along his thumb, chewing on her lip and anxiety radiating off of her.

He's fine, Brasidas wants to tell her, that he'd gladly follow her up a dozen cliffs and into Hades itself, to the ends of the world, and that bloody fingers are the least of his problems but the words get stuck in his throat as he watches a peculiar blush crawl up her neck. 

He's suddenly hyper aware of everything -- the weight of his armor against his chest, the buzzing of bugs in the quiet summer air, the feel of Kassandra's fingers on his own as she looks at his ragged fingertips, the burn of them from trying to keep up with her on that damn cliff. The oppressive humidity that surrounds the Eurotas and the crash of water by their side. 

Then again, he thinks, as he watches her, the heat closing in on him may have nothing to do with the weather. 

She hums and glances up at him, searching for something in his face ( _what,_ he wants to whisper, _tell me what you're looking for and I'll give it to you_ \--), her eyes dancing over his features before settling on his lips for a beat too long. 

Oh. _Oh._

Her eyes snap back to his seconds before he even realizes he's crowded into her space. His free hand reaches up to ghost a touch at the side of her neck before settling into the curve of where her shoulder meets and he's once again taken aback by the strength there. He shouldn't be--her strength is always present but in this heart-fluttering moment, he's fascinated by the flex of muscle under soft, soft skin. 

Kassandra's eyelashes flutter, her lips part, and she's leaning forward to meet him as their lips crash together. She drops his hand to move hers to his face, cradling it, fingertips brushing under his chin so she can anchor herself against his mouth.

The sound of the waterfall and the sound of the blood rushing in his ears all combine into one roar as Brasidas moves to grip her waist, tugging her closer, closer, his heart beating damn near out of his chest and some shred of sanity mutters that they probably shouldn't do this on a damn rock sticking out of a damned cliff. 

"--wait," he croaks, wrenching himself away. Her gaze, dazed and then ashamed, spurs him back into motion, the shake of his head sharp and unwieldy. "No, not like _that_ , it's just...let's get off the precarious ledge before one of us slips."

"I would never slip," Kassandra turns her nose up and squints at him in the sun. "But you, well. We can't have Sparta's greatest falling off an outcropping." 

She stands, in one fluid motion and jumps off the rock, making Brasidas' heart leap into his throat. But she's fine, tucking into a tight roll and landing in the grass. He glares at her and she barks out a laugh and good gods, it is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. 

It takes him a little longer to get down the side of the mountain, and much less graceful, but when he does, and he leans over to catch his breath for a moment, he can feel her fingers trail along his shoulder blades. He stands abruptly and catches her hand before she can pull away and tugs her to him, grinning as he presses his mouth against hers once more. 

She's like a fire. Her personality, her strength, the way she kisses him back. If not for her hands moving to tangle in his hair, if not for his fingers settling at her hips to squeeze, he feels like he might fly apart. She's the best thing he's ever tasted, ever smelled, ever touched. She takes and takes and gives only when he demands it, and he can feel her smile against his lips. 

Brasidas pulls away, just a fraction, to suck air in and presses his forehead against hers. Kassandra smooths out his ruffled hair, her breath hot against his mouth, and he can feel the way her lips curve into a smile against his skin. 

"Been wanting to do that for...a while," She laughs, softly. He pulls back and notices that she's turned faintly pink and he _grins_ at her. Overjoyed, because it isn't just him feeling this tug between them. Because she's turning pink, all the way to the tips of her ears and he has seen Kassandra in all states of being: angry, sad, happy, blood-covered and taunting, but never _embarrassed_. It's a special thing, he realizes, moving his hands to smooth thumbs over her cheeks. She's trusting him enough to show this tiny sliver of what she must think is weakness even if he knows it's no such thing. 

She's been back in Lakonia for just under six months, hardly sitting idly while the kings try to come up with some reason to make her go away. She's moved throughout the city of Sparta like a storm, kicking up dust and challenging any who cling to outdated ideals, and stopping to help the downtrodden, the children, the _helots_ , the ones Sparta does not care about. 

Since the moment Brasidas met her, he has never seen anything he could catalogue as weakness in her. Weakness was sitting in castles and hiding behind tradition and letting _kryptes_ do your dirty work, all while smiling and clapping the shoulders of your _ephors_ and generals. Weakness was having those kinds of thoughts swim around your head and having to bite your tongue until it bleeds to keep them from coming out. 

Kassandra makes him want to be a better person. One that speaks his ideals, that lets others know that dying isn't the only way to glory. _With your shield or on it_ is a surefire way to make sure your country doesn't last too long. He brushes his fingers along her neck and leans in to kiss her once more, silencing his buzzing mind with more comforting things. 

The muscles of her neck under his palm, for instance. The way her breath hitches when his other hand slides to her waist, squeezes at her hip. Her fingers tightening on his arms, sliding up to his neck, playing with his braid. He pulls away again, to murmur against her lips: "I've wanted to do that for a long time, as well. I'm glad we did."

Brasidas steps back and curls his fingers around her own before squinting up at the sun. Just after noon, now. His day is free, and he's pretty sure hers is too since the kings still haven't come up with a way to have her prove herself to them. He wants to take her back to his little house in the middle of the city, but doesn't want to be too forward, doesn't want to make her regret kissing him earlier. 

But she knows him so well, already, and knows he's caught up in his own thoughts, so when she squeezes his hand and he looks at her, she grins mischievously. "So, you want to get out of this heat? I'd invite you to my house, but it seems the kings still don't want to give it back to me."

"A shame, really," Brasidas smiles at her again, shaking his head. "The worst idea since the war, honestly." 

"Don't let them hear you say that," her tone turns more serious as turns toward the city, her hand still in his. "You're doing good here, Brasidas. You'll change minds but only if you're still in a place of power to do so." A shadow passes over Kassandra's face, and she hesitates, like she wants to say something else. Shaking her head, she swallows it back down. "Take me home, Brasidas. I'd like to spend the rest of your day off learning every inch of you."

Heat floods him, from his belly to his ears and he's sure he's turning red. His palms suddenly feel sweaty but he readjusts his grip on her hand and starts the short journey back to Sparta. He reluctantly drops her hand as they enter the city but an idea forms in his mind and he ushers her off the main road, onto the back streets and uses the shadows to press her against the wall. 

A surprised noise leaves her throat and Brasidas uses her slowed reaction time to push against her, capturing her mouth with his in a hard, bruising kiss. He can't stop thinking about how easily the words came to her, how she's so used to just taking what she wants, and how that makes him feel like a fire is burning low in his belly. 

Her leg lifts between his legs, grazing against him and he stutters, fingers tightening at her hips. _Unfair_ , he thinks, he's supposed to be doing that to her, unraveling her, not the other way around. Kassandra pulls away from his kiss, chest heaving as she gasps for breath and tugs on his braid until he looks at her, eyes dazed. "Take me _home_ , Brasidas." 

He groans, low and rumbly in his chest and he feels her shudder under him. Pushing himself off of the wall, and subsequently off of her, Brasidas grabs her hand and tugs her along with him. 

A few more twists and turns in the shaded back corridors of Sparta, he nearly kicks down his door in his haste to pull her inside. As it is, he ends up crashing into his table as Kassandra pins him against it, trying to fumble with the buckles of his armor. 

"No, wait," he laughs, pushing himself off the table and back onto his feet. "If I am to have you," his voice is deep and more of a growl than a speaking voice, "I will enjoy it in my bed."

Her eyebrow quirks up and her grin turns feral and suddenly it's hard to swallow but he gathers his strength to grab her around the waist and haul her up against him, moving hands to her thighs to push her up so she's straddling him as he walks. Her laughter is genuine and she tilts her head back to let it ring out in the air. "Brasidas!"

Kassandra's hands clutch his shoulders as he moves his way toward the back of the small house, into his bedroom before dumping her on the bed, unceremoniously. Laughter still shakes her shoulders as he starts to undo the belts of his armor, throwing it to the side in a heap, an apology in his mind. He'll take extra care with it later, when he's not as eager as a schoolboy who's just discovered women exist. 

Now just in his _exomis_ , Brasidas looks at Kassandra again, and blinks in surprise to see that she's already removed her breastplate and shoes and is working on her arm braces. He lets her finish, watching them drop to the side of the bed, before he kneels over her, drawing her hand up to his mouth, brushing a kiss against the fingers. 

She's staring up at him, something quiet and soft on her face and he hopes he remembers this moment forever. It takes his breath away, the way her lips are barely parted, the blush across her collarbone reaching further under her tunic ( _how far down does it go, need to know, to see_ ) and for once, he doesn't push the voice in his head away, he gives in, and undoes the fastener of her _chiton_ , pulling it down her body. 

It pools at her waist and he trails fingers along her side, relishing in the way she shivers as he catches in her dips and curves. His thumb swipes across a scar at her ribs and she squirms under him. Keeping his eyes on hers, not looking away (the beautiful gold of her irises is almost gone now, replaced by lust-turned-dark), he lowers his mouth to her breast, dragging his tongue along a pebbled nipple. 

Kassandra freezes for a moment before biting her lip, tilting her head back, and groaning softly. It spurs him on, and he adds a little scrape of his teeth this time, making her hands fly to the back of his head. His fingers busy themselves with pushing her small clothes down along with the rest of her tunic, and she kicks them away, bending her knees and settling him between her legs. 

He can feel her heat against his stomach and his cock twitches at the sensation. His fingers come to replace his mouth as he moves to her other breast and Kassandra moves against him, seeking friction and completely derailing his plans. 

"Brasidas," she hisses, fingers squeezing his shoulders. "If you don't take me now, I _swear_ \--" 

He drags his teeth against the hardened bud in his mouth again and she breaks off, pressing her hips up into him. Cursing under his breath, he pulls away, just far enough to shove his smallclothes down his hips, freeing himself. Kicking them across the small room, he goes back to her, and she quickly wraps her arms and legs around him to not let him get away from her again. 

Kassandra tilts her hips once more, dragging her wetness against his cock, and he falters, fingers squeezing at her side before taking himself in his hand and guiding himself into her. She tenses for a moment and he stops, letting her become accustomed to him, and him to her. 

He thought she was the best thing before -- the best thing he touched, tasted, smelled -- but that was just a small shade of how he feels now. The heat of her surrounds him, her soft pants of breath warm on his shoulder, her forehead against his. He's not even moving and he's already half-way gone, just being inside of her. 

She arches against him and presses her heel into his lower back, urging him to go, to move, and he already knows that he will never get her to actually beg but this will be close enough. His hands go to her thighs, pushing them up around the sides of his chest and he pulls back just enough before pressing back into her again. Her teeth sink into her lip again, muffling the sound of her moan and he shakes his head against her collarbone. 

"Let me hear you, Kassandra," and he barely recognizes his voice with it so far gone into a hoarse growl. His teeth scrape along her collarbone and she whines under him as he thrusts forward again. 

He wonders, for a moment, if this is the opposite of how she usually takes a lover. He imagines she is always in charge (like she is in her day to day life) and a puff of pride fills chest as he draws another gasping moan out of her, from being the one to draw her pleasure forward this time. And hopefully for all times, if she'll let him. 

Brasidas pulls himself forward, into her, deeper, to be able to press his mouth against hers, to catch the curses tumbling from her lips. His fingers are tight on her hips but hers are even tighter on his shoulders -- he can feel the pinpricks of her nails cutting crescent moons into his skin. He's trying to go slow, to draw this out as long as possible, but her foot keeps him close and her arching into him tells him to go faster, harder. 

"Brasidas," she whispers against his lips, her eyes dark and wild, her hair sticking to her face, braid in shambles. "There will be--" she stops for a moment, letting out another small moan as he continues to move against her. "There will be time enough for exploration later."

He knows she's right and his body is telling him to listen to her. His heart, his mind, however, just want this to last. And then she _squeezes_ him from the inside and his body makes the decision without him. He slides his fingers down to where they're connected and grazes them against the bundle of nerves between her legs. She shudders around him, and presses her mouth against his ear, his neck, wherever she can reach as he drives her closer and closer to the edge. 

He pulls back again, still pressed between her legs, so he can watch her, watch her face as she comes, and it's so very worth it. Her eyes close, her mouth falls open, the blush on her collarbone creeps up her neck, across her cheeks and her breasts, sweat beaded across her hairline and she arches, _arches_ , into him, gasping his name. 

It's a sight that will forever be burned into his eyelids, he thinks, as he gives into the sensation and buries his head in her shoulder and spills himself into her.

* * *

Afterward, they lay there, legs tangled together, Kassandra's head pillowed on his chest, as she traces a scar along his abdomen. There's a comfort in the silence, a heady weight that covers them but not in an oppressive way. 

The sky is still light outside, it can't be past three now. He's grateful he's no where to be because he wants nothing more than to roll her on top of him and learn her body a little slower this time. At least, once his eyelids stop drooping. He curls his fingers around her shoulder and she looks up at him. "Stay, for the night. Will Myrrine miss you?"

" _Mater_ is staying with a friend and I usually sleep on the Andrestia anyway. Barnabas won't notice if I'm gone for a night." She pauses, and drags her fingers away from his scar and up to his chest, making him shiver. "Well, he may notice, but he won't mind."

"I would like to meet him, soon. I think I've only nodded in his direction the last time I was at port. He sounds like a good man." 

"He is." Kassandra smiles, a little sadly. "More of a father than some of the people I know." She clears her throat and curls closer to him. "I'll stay, Brasidas of Sparta. But you'll have to keep me entertained. It's still very early in the day after all." 

His laughter booms around them, filling the small room with the joyous sound and he grins up at her as he rolls her on top of him. "I'll do my best, _misthios_."


End file.
